


just your typical saturday

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Danny hates his life. Honest. [Complete and utter crack.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	just your typical saturday

**Author's Note:**

> No, really, the summary pretty much covers it. Based on [this picture](http://www.lefthandedtoons.com/toons/drew_presents.gif) and several chats with both [](http://shinysylver.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**shinysylver**](http://shinysylver.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://padfootthegrim.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**padfootthegrim**](http://padfootthegrim.dreamwidth.org/).

Danny wakes up to the sound of frantic purring.

“What the hell,” he grumbles, swatting at the source of said purring and hitting only air. “G’way, Steve.”

“What did I do?” Steve asks from his other side, sounding both affronted and half-asleep. It’s an interesting combination, and Danny reaches out with his other hand and pats Steve’s shoulder. Well, he means to pat Steve’s shoulder; he ends up patting somewhere around Steve’s nipple. Whatever.

“Not you,” Danny says. “The other one.”

“Oh,” Steve replies. Danny feels Steve swatting a hand in his general direction. “Off the bed, Steve.”

“You know,” Danny says after a minute, “I’m starting to regret naming the cat after you.”

Steve-the-human snorts.

-0-

Danny can’t find either version of Steve. He’s not actually worried; Steve-the-cat is probably sleeping somewhere obnoxious, and Steve-the-human is probably out for his pre-breakfast swim. Danny stumbles down the stairs and heads right for the coffeemaker, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring a cup for himself. He drinks half of the mug before he realizes that his partner is crouched near the water’s edge, arms moving wildly; it takes the rest of the cup before Danny notices their cat sitting beside him, poking his paw into the water right after Steve-the-human does.

Danny doesn’t want to know. He really, really doesn’t. He grabs the pot and pours himself another cup, resolutely turning away from the window.

-0-

“Steve!” Danny hollers, looking at the mess in the kitchen. There’s a pause, and then an inquisitive meow from the doorway. “No, not you. Big Steve.”

“Meow,” Steve-the-cat says, sniffing at the wet pile of towel and swim trunks and sand left just inside the door. He reaches out a paw tentatively, pokes the towel a few times, and promptly curls up in it, stretching mightily.

“Of course,” Danny says, staring at the cat, who is purring happily in the midst of the mess. “Of course you’re a cat who likes the ocean. I named you well.”

“Steve is awesome,” Steve says from the doorway, and God, well-named or not, Danny regrets giving Steve so many opportunities to say that.

-0-

“Oh my God, that’s just-” Danny scowls and pulls his foot back, glad he’d noticed the dead bird on the doorstep before walking on it. “Why? Why does he kill the local fauna and leave it on the welcome mat?”

“They’re presents,” Steve offers, bending to grab the dead thing with a section of newspaper. “He’s just hunting for us.”

“Presents,” Danny sighs. “Fucking glorious. Just what I always wanted. Murder presents.”

“Hey,’ Steve says from somewhere in the garage, where he’s hopefully disposing of the dead thing. “At least he hasn’t gone after Gracie’s goldfish again.”

“God,” Danny moans, dropping his head into his hands. “How many versions of Skippy are we up to now?”

“Seven,” Steve says, reappearing and heading to the kitchen. Danny hears the sink turn on, and Steve yells over the sound of the water. “This month.”

-0-

“Put your gun down,” the guy says, aiming his own gun at Danny.

“Fuck you, no, this is my house,” Danny spits, wishing he could aim more pointedly at the guy. “You put your gun down.”

The guy smiles nastily. “Oh, I don’t think so, Detective Williams.”

“Great, fucking awesome,” Danny growls. “I can’t just get your run-of-the-mill home invasion, can I? No, I have to get the crazy dude who’s out for personal revenge or something. This is getting old. Do you not realize how trite this shit is?”

The guy has been narrowing his eyes for at least half of Danny’s perfectly valid point. “If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t about you.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” Danny asks, exasperated. He’s itching to throw his hands in the air, but that would require moving his gun, so it’s not going to happen. “What, you’re blaming Steve for this? I’m the damsel in distress? Do I look like a damsel to you – or, for that matter, particularly distressed?”

“I’d say you look pretty distressed,” Steve says from the doorway, his tone casually light. The guy jerks, his gun swings wide towards the wall, and before Danny can do much more than blink, there’s a shrieking black and white ball of fur flying through the air at the guy’s head. The guy falls to the floor, trying to dislodge the cat and failing pretty miserably.

“Christ, who has an attack cat?” the guy complains fifteen minutes later as he’s being loaded into the ambulance. His face is streaked with puffy red claw marks, and there are a few deep punctures in the vicinity of his right eyebrow that are about the size of Steve’s mouth.

Danny just spreads his arms wide. “Seriously, you’re surprised?”

Steve sits on the porch, calmly cleaning his paws. The guy in the ambulance glances at him, shudders, and shakes his head.

-0-

It’s times like this that make Danny glad that his phone has an easy-to-use camera. He pulls it up, aims, and snaps the photo before tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“Danny?” Steve asks, blinking his eyes open. He’s sitting in the middle of the couch, arms spread wide across the back, head lolling in an unnatural position that cannot be comfortable. The cat is sprawled across his lap, front legs dangling off of Steve’s thigh, his head dropped down between Steve’s legs.

“Yeah, babe,” Danny says, crossing the room to sit next to the pair. Steve’s arm curls around his shoulders, pulling him in until he’s leaning against Steve’s body. Steve-the-cat stands up, kneads his paws into Steve-the-human’s thigh a few times, and turns around, laying his head on Danny’s thigh and his body across Steve’s lap.

“Nothing,” Steve says, dropping a kiss to Danny’s temple and leaning his head in to rest on Danny’s hair. He’s out again in seconds.

“Meow,” Steve adds, smacking his head into Danny’s palm a few times until Danny gives in and scratches behind his ears. He settles, purring, and also falls promptly to sleep.

Well, hell, Danny decides, shutting his eyes. It’s been a long day.


End file.
